


All I Want For Saturnalia (Is You)

by Caepio



Series: Basia [2]
Category: Ancient History RPF, Classical Greece and Rome History & Literature RPF, Julius Caesar - Shakespeare
Genre: Blizzards & Snowstorms, For Fluff's Sake, Holidays, M/M, Saturnalia, brutus not being stressed to hell, playful brutus, the holidays come yikes attached I'm not adding to it, why? why not.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:20:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21843586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caepio/pseuds/Caepio
Summary: Unapologetic fluff in the name of the season.
Relationships: Mark Antony/Marcus Junius Brutus the Younger
Series: Basia [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1499426
Kudos: 18





	All I Want For Saturnalia (Is You)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ahala](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahala/gifts).



Two days to Saturnalia, and the worst snowstorm in memory.

No one went out.  
The city woke to a bitter cold whiteout, icy wind sneaking in under doorways and the cracks in windows. 

A heavy, muffled, silence dropped down across the hills. The lights in the temple of Vesta? Shadowed, even from the foot of the steps. The great pillars of Saturn's temple? Obscured.

Antony stayed inside. In his study, braziers burning, wool cloak covering, he could still feel the chill. Something about those nights in Gaul… The cold aches worse after that. You long for heat. 

There was nothing to do. He paced. He drank wine. He wrapped his lacerna around himself and stood in the atrium, watching the snow accumulate, cold creeping through. When he thought he could feel the ice in his blood he went back in. 

Dark during the day, the night sucked up all the light. Slaves lit lamps under the swinging oscillum, little flames in all the windows.

No noise at all. Flickering light and silence. Antony might have fallen asleep, but then — Someone was banging on the door. 

The sound echoed through the house, urgent, and Antony went out into the hall as a slave ran and pulled back the latch, admitting a heavily cloaked figure. A wash of snow came in with the door opening, cold whipping down the hall. 

“Do you mind?” Brutus asked, breathless with the cold, pulling back his hood, “Had to get away.”

Antony stared at him.

There was ice and snow in every pleat, and in his hair, despite the hood. Brutus unwound himself from the first layer, cursing as some of the snow slid down under his collar. 

“Claudia?” Antony asked finally, seeing the tension in the lines of Brutus’ face.

“And my mother.” 

Antony waved the slave away and helped Brutus get free of the frozen, damp wool of the second cloak he’d wrapped around himself. 

“Surprised you went out in this.”

“Wasn’t that far.”

“So when you want me it’s not far but every other time it’s too much trouble?”

“You have a real complaint?” Brutus let the cloak fall to the floor and shook his head, half congealed water droplets flying. “Do you have anything better to do?” He reached up, pressing freezing palms on either side of Antony’s neck till he yelped, pulling away.

“You’re _freezing_.” Antony gasped.

Brutus pressed his hands against Antony’s chest instead, nudging him a step back against the wall - “ _You’re warm_.”

“And what if I have someone here already?”

Brutus pressed closer, “You don’t.”

“How do you know?”

“You wouldn’t have come to the door if you did.”

Antony looked down at him, cheeks flushed with the cold, eyes bright, “You have ice in your hair you know.” 

Brutus reached a hand up, running it through the tangles, and shrugged. “It’ll melt.” He shoved Antony lightly, “You want to just stand here till the atrium fills with snow?”

“Hang on - I want to savour the moment. You couldn’t stand the people around you and you thought of me. _I'm_ the better choice. I’m really honored.”

“I walked through a blizzard for you.” Brutus replied, acerbically, but he was biting his cheek, forcing the tone. “Come on.’ He said, sliding his fingers through Antony’s hair, “Make that my Saturnalia gift. A night uninterrupted with you.” 

“What makes you think I’d _get_ you a Saturnalia gift?”

“Nothing.” Brutus tilted his head to the side, “See how generous I am? I’ve taken the work right out of it for you.”

“I’m not sure _that’s_ what you’ve done.”

“Oh- well if you’re saying it’s _work_ fucking me-”

Antony clapped a hand across Brutus’ mouth, silencing him. He could feel Brutus’ lips twisting into a smile against his palm. “ _I didn’t say that._ ” 

Brutus tilted his head, watching Antony, speculative, provocative. He wound his fingers around Antony’s belt, tugging lightly and then letting the tension slack, once, then twice, and again. 

Antony stepped closer, forehead to forehead, and slid his hand away from Brutus’ mouth. Brutus was still smiling, inexorable, almost unnoticeable. Antony grinned, kissing Brutus too lightly, too quickly to satisfy. Brutus gasped, leaning into his embrace, trying for more, his arm tightening around Antony’s shoulders with frustrated urgency. 

When Antony pulled away Brutus pressed his hands against his chest, pushing him back towards the wall again, and Antony let him. He pressed another kiss to Antony’s mouth, and another, “ _Come on._ ”

Antony laughed, leaning his head back against the wall, “Alright,” He said, with exaggerated magnanimity, then ducked suddenly, throwing Brutus over his shoulder, half knocking the breath out of him. “I yield.”

Brutus gasped, twisting in Antony’s hold ineffectually (and without any real energy), “Like there was any question of that…”

Antony kicked the door to his bedroom open, throwing Brutus down on his bed. “Can’t be too predictable,” He said, settling between Brutus’ thighs and leaning down to kiss him, “You’ll tire of me.”

Brutus wrapped his legs around Antony’s waist, arcing against him. Any other evening, on a night less deadened silent, Antony wouldn’t have been able to hear Brutus’ quiet, whispered response:

“Never.”


End file.
